


our words are not yet written

by she_who_the_river_could_not_hold



Series: Troped: Fic Challenge [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Interrupted Kiss, Modern Era, Rebellion, Sharing a Bed, alternating pov, not a cop friendly fic lol but what do you expect in a dystopia?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22659175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold/pseuds/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold
Summary: After the rise of religious zealot, Chancellor Russell Lightbourne, life changes for the worst. The hinges of society begin to collapse and as riots fill the streets, it’s impossible to stay neutral. Bellamy Blake is more than willing to throw himself into the thick of it, but when his sister disappears he has no choice but to go after her. With a target on his back though, he also knows that he needs help.In this new society, if you need to get around undetected, there’s one person you contact: The Princess. Bellamy does just that, putting himself on a road trip across a divided country with an unexpected ally. Clarke Griffin might have a past that would have put them at odds with each other, but now they’re the only hope that they each have to get through this together.▸Dystopian AU for Chopped: The 100 “Choose Your Own Adventure”
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Emori/John Murphy (brief)
Series: Troped: Fic Challenge [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524449
Comments: 20
Kudos: 77
Collections: Chopped: Choose Your Own Adventure





	our words are not yet written

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my entry for the Chopped: The 100’s “Choose Your Own Adventure!” My theme is Dystopia AU and the tropes I chose to use are:  
> 1\. Bed Sharing  
> 2\. Hurt/Comfort  
> 3\. Interrupted Kiss  
> 4\. Road Trip AU
> 
> General disclaimer: while this fic was super cathartic for me, I also know a lot of people read fic to escape everything going on in the world! This is heavily inspired by current events so if that’s not what you need right now in your fic, I totally get that! I promise there is some fun, emotional Bellarke moments to balance it out.
> 
> Otherwise my only other disclaimers are that there’s one scene with violence (should be canon-level so I kept the fic rated Teen). That and swearing, as usual for me. 
> 
> Title from “NOT HUMAN” by ionnalee.

_Prelude_

Smoke bombs stained the sky with vibrant, burnt orange. Glass shattered, almost entirely masked by the sound of echoing chants. Streets swarmed, elbows jostling and toes stepped on. A vibrating intensity that felt like buildings were shaking and hearts pounded in time with boots on the pavement. 

Rows of armed forces stood row by row. Army, police, Marine.. The patch on the sleeve meant nothing when the weapons were identical. It was a waiting game as jetstreams of water struggled to divide the two sides from reaching the other. 

_“Death to Primes.”_

_“Death to Primes.”_

_“Death to Primes.”_

A single gunshot in the air, the sound reverberating through skulls as people dropped to the ground. The streets fell silent for the first time in hours. Every breath was held in a shivering anticipation. 

Happy Election Day. 

* * *

_Five Years Later_

Bellamy Blake groaned as his alarm went off. The piercing beeps drilled into him and he blindly slapped at it in the dark before finally making contact. 

As he waited for his body to fully wake up, he listened as the rest of the floor woke up as well. Yesterday had been a training day and it seemed like he wasn’t the only one who was sore, judging by the sounds of his roommates. Groans and muttering drifted in and out as people gingerly got out of their bunks. Someone shouted that they were turning on the lights and a chorus of acknowledgement returned the shout, followed up by a flood of fluorescent light, flickering and buzzing to life. 

His eyes adjusting to the brightness, Bellamy’s eyes zeroed in on the tally marks above him. One for each week he had lived in the bunker. Taking the small pocket knife beside his alarm clock, he notched one more in.

Life still hadn’t been easy for the Blake family, even before the rise of Chancellor Russell Lightbourne,. They’d hovered just above the poverty line, his mom working multiple jobs while he tried to balance school and working as well. The unexpected arrival of Octavia after his mom had a one-night stand had spun things into an entirely new direction. Bellamy had known it would take more luck than it would hard work to pull them out, but at least they had each other. 

But fate had a wicked streak to it.

Election year was burned into his mind for multiple reasons. 

First: it was the year the most powerful, religious zealot took control of the government through a combination of loopholes as well as terrifying support.

Second: it was the year his mom died. 

It all happened just after the election. Russell had quickly swept through with new laws and slashing others. First to go was healthcare, with his unnervingly professional voice declaring that the ultimate choice of life and death, beyond basic care, was a choice that was left up to a higher power. 

And those who could afford it. 

The Blakes could barely cover minimum payments for their housing, so when the envelopes had begun to arrive at their door, there wasn’t much they could do.

Fuck hospital bills and the cruel world that had crushed the shoulders of the woman who had tried to carry it. It’d been easy before then for Bellamy to blame her for her actions, but that wasn’t the case anymore. He understood the position she had been in and he could only fight to fix the system, rather than burdening himself with guilt. So he took to the streets.

All it had taken was a couple viral videos of Bellamy shouting encouragement and giving speeches to protesters to get his name out there. His story circulated, a representation of how previous political injustices already circulating through the system were only heightened after Russell’s election.

It also meant that he had a target on his back. 

Ex-councilman Marcus Kane had been the one to take him from Saturday morning protests to a literal underground resistance. The bunker was a creation of radical billionaire, Bill Cadogan. While Bellamy was wary of anyone with that much money, the man seemed to be truly against the Primes and their ways. He apparently had bunkers scattered across the country to help house rebellions, with this one right in the capitol. 

Bellamy had never met the man, but he wasn’t about to bite the hand helping feed and house him away from the militarized police force, as well as keep his sister safe.

The beginning of the week down here was a mixed bag: some people doing smaller protests to disrupt traffic as people commuted to work, others using the time to recover from the physical exertion of the bigger riots. Daylight made it hard, graffiti artists using it as time to sleep so they could stay up all night. Some people worked on new signs or fliers to distribute, others working on social media outreach to help spread news that the media wouldn’t report and so that they could reach others outside the country.

Today, Bellamy was helping get things ready for the next supply run. He was going over a list with Monroe, a college student who had dropped out after her parents were arrested for trying to leak information from the government. She had a mean swing with a baseball bat, which Bellamy had personally seen her take to some of the Prime members’ cars one night.

He was in the middle of estimating how many gas masks they should pick up when he heard someone calling his name. 

He stopped talking and looked up to see Miller jogging towards him. Just like Monroe, he shared a story that tied him to all of this with the death of his dad – one of the few cops to stand up to a superior. He had been Bellamy’s best friend for years, but what he was about to say was one of the last things he ever wanted to hear out of Miller’s mouth. 

“Octavia’s gone. She was supposed to show up for her training today but she never did. I just checked her bunk, all of her shit is gone,” he said in a rush. 

Bellamy’s body instantly grew clammy. 

It took only a moment for him to race back down the bunker’s hallways to the room that Octavia stayed in. For late September, it was still unseasonably warm in the bunker. The air could feel stifling almost all day and then only give them some reprieve at night. While Bellamy was running through the halls, the heat made the cement walls feel like they were closing in on him. 

_His sister, his responsibility._

Her bunk was empty just as Miller had said it was.

He more or less sprinted to Kane’s office, close to the cavernous main area of the bunker. The man was startled out of reading a newspaper at the sudden arrival of Bellamy in the doorway.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, immediately taking in Bellamy’s expression.

“Did you know?”

“Bellamy ––” 

“DID YOU KNOW?”

He had spent so many years learning to control his anger that it almost even surprised Bellamy to hear his voice come out so aggressively. But the cold panic clutching at him at the idea of his sister being in danger overtook his senses.

Kane let out a long breath before reaching out to place a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder, which he quickly shook off.

“Did you know Octavia left?” He said, fighting to regain control.

“Of course not,” Kane with a tone far too complacent for Bellamy’s liking. He’d been cold and calculating as a councilman and sometimes the pragmatic peacemaker was hard to adjust to. 

“You’re supposed to keep track of everyone!” Bellamy cursed.

Kane’s lips pursed and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I won’t keep surveillance over my own people if that’s what you’re implying. That would defeat the purpose of what we’re doing and what we stand for. You know that.”

“So you’re telling me,” Bellamy fought to control his voice, “that you have no idea where my sister went?”

Kane shook his head before pausing, thinking something over. 

“It might be nothing. But I received a message out from Sanctum, Cadogan’s home base. He wanted to recruit some people from Polis. I haven’t mentioned it to anyone yet so I can’t imagine how she would have found out, but that would be the only lead I can think of.”

Bellamy let out a groan. As soon as Kane said it, it made ]sense. He didn’t doubt that Octavia snooped around, always driven by her curiosity. And she would have known how he’d react just as much as he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of being more involved, of the higher risk of working within Sanctum.

“I have to go after her.” 

His mind was immediately made up. Octavia hadn’t been out there as much as he had, she didn’t know the danger she could put herself in and he certainly didn’t trust this man leading the charge from afar. Not at least when it came to putting dangerous ideas in his sister’s head. 

“You can’t risk it, it’s too dangerous right now.” Kane’s voice was firm. “Not after last week. That riot got out of hand and while I could also punch every fascist Prime, your mask getting pulled off just as you clocked that asshole Ryker, has put too much attention on you. We need things to calm down before you back out there.”

“You know that won’t stop me.”

It wasn’t a threat, but it was certainly a promise. He wouldn’t remain hidden away down here when he didn’t know if his sister was safe. 

Kane let out a frustrated sigh.

The long pause between them echoed the usual challenge they held between each other, a delicate balance of mentor and mentee and equal.

“Fine. If you really feel that you need to go, let me at least help you get there. I can’t have it on my conscious if you do this without any planning. I have a contact, The Princess. She helps transport people in and out of the city undetected. I’ll get in touch with her and see if I can get her out here.”

XXXXX

Three days later, Bellamy was wordlessly given a piece of paper with a time on it. He was startled by the mid-afternoon scheduling, but he supposed it would be more suspicious for a car to be leaving the city at night. 

So he packed up a lone duffel bag and crept out of the bunker, letting himself hover in the shadows. He wasn’t the only prompt one though.

A Jeep Rover, matte black, loomed ahead of him. It nearly filled up the entire alleyway, sitting at the slightest angle. Whoever this _Princess_ was, they clearly know how to drive this thing.

Just as Bellamy was beginning to get anxious though, unable to see inside the tinted windows, the door on the driver’s side opened. 

She was shorter than he was expecting. Her age was hard to discern due to the black mask covering the majority of her face, what looks like a ratted, braided red wig, and thick layers of khol around her eyes. She’s certainly had removed any true distinguishing features; she was no amateur at this.

“Blake?”

It’s hard to tell if the lowness of her voice is as much of a cover as her mask, but he has a briefly odd dash of hope that it’s really what she sounds like.

“And you’re The Princess.” The charming smile he attempted to tack on the end didn’t seem to do much to sway her.

“So what’s the story?” she asked abruptly when he didn’t say anything else.

“Story?”

“I need to know where I’m taking you. The urgency, how many people might be after us if we get caught.”

Bellamy fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Out west.”

“That’s not remotely helpful.”

“I’m going to Arkadia. I don’t know the details after that,” he replied evasively. He wanted as little information to come out, for both of their sakes’. She didn’t seem to agree with him though. 

“You don’t _know_ and you’re expecting me to just go on a wild goose chase around Arkadia?” The outrage was palpable in what little of her face he could see, her ocean blue eyes ablaze as she stomped closer to him. He was almost surprised that she didn’t stop her foot or jab her finger into his chest.

“Fine!” Bellamy finally snapped. “We’re going to Sanctum. That’s where my sister is, at least I hope where she is.” He hadn’t known if he could trust her, if this Princess was a part of the bigger revolution happening enough to know what Sanctum was. But he didn’t have much of a choice right now.

Though at the way her eyes widened, she apparently knew exactly what he was talking about. 

“Oh, well that changes things.” She blinked owlishly at him before snapping into attention again. “I have a contact that sometimes works out there, I can see if I can get in touch with her along the way for any extra information.”

That was that then. The trip had now officially begun.

Slinging his duffel bag into the trunk and then climbing into the front, Bellamy tried to keep his nerves in check. It was all going to work out. The Princess would take him to Sanctum, hopefully Octavia was there, and then they’d all come home.

“I’m Bellamy,” he offered as they slowly moved through the city. 

“I know,” she said easily before catching his eye. He could almost swear she blushed. “It’s nearly impossible to be involved in any sort of protest without seeing your face pop up. You seem to have a penchant for speaking from the heart.”

He took it as a compliment and settled into his seat a little more comfortably.

The rest of the ride was silent until they reached the city border. In an effort to reduce the amount of people that could come into the capital, there was a system set up that included a variety of types of permits for entering – and leaving – Polis. 

“Get into the backseat,” she instructed brusquely as she pulled the Rover into one of the shorter lines. A priority one, she must have had a special permit. Bellamy felt his defensiveness start to rise at her tone but he knew he had to listen to her. 

“You think me sitting back here is enough? They’ll still look in,” he grumbled, quickly clamoring over the seat and tumbling his way onto the backseat. 

“It’s a fake floor back there,” The Princess cooly responded, as if insulted that he was questioning her. Which he supposed she had a right too. Transporting people was apparently what she did. 

And sure enough, the floor beneath the seat pulled away and he quickly realized at how much this Rover had been customized. There was room for maybe four people underneath and he comfortably slid down into the compartment, pulling the floor back over him once he was settled. It was not a moment too soon as well, as he felt more than heard the car beginning to slow down. Sounds of things being tossed onto the back seat as he assumed she was removing the disguise she had worn to meet him.

This was the make or break moment.

While there would no doubt be issues on the road, this was the first test. Possibly the most important one. Nothing could go wrong.

Bellamy sucked in his breath as he heard the window being rolled down. 

“Afternoon ma’am. Don’t want to take up much of your time, this should just be a routine city border check. Just need to see your driver’s license and travel permit.”

The officer’s voice was oily. Slick. This was the type of guy who knew what type of power he had over people. It made Bellamy’s stomach coil. 

He could hear The Princess shuffling around and then a peppy, almost girly, “here you go sir, that should be everything.”

It was unnerving to hear the change in pitch but Bellamy couldn’t help but be impressed. There was no indication of the rough, hardened girl he had spoken to earlier. The pleasant tone of the officer indicated too that she wasn’t a threat. Whoever she was, she clearly knew how to work within the system and use herself to her advantage. 

“Well, I’ll be damned. Clarke Griffin is that really you? I haven’t seen you since your mother was in office!”

The officer’s change in tone to one of familiarity would have set off a ton of alarm bells in Bellamy’s mind if it wasn’t for the fact that they were already going off in his head.

The Princess was Clarke Griffin.

Clarke Griffin who was the daughter of Abby Griffin, the woman who had been Chancellor two terms before Russell had stepped into the role. Political royalty, or at least had been until the woman had stepped down and the family had disappeared from the limelight. Bellamy had never paid any attention to the Griffins at that point, merely a blip in his disgruntled attitudes towards the system as a whole.

But as Clarke politely conversed with the officer, a man named Cage Wallace who had apparently known the Griffins through his father, Bellamy’s head spun.

He was still processing it, cycling through confusion and anger, as the Rover started up again and moved past the city limits. And when they were far enough out and he heard Clarke say that it was safe for him to come out again, he did so with a stunned expression.

The mask and wig were gone, revealing messy blonde hair and a pained expression. Without a doubt, he recognized her. The unexpected death of the Chancellor’s husband had made headline news, especially with gossip magazines throwing out baseless rumors about what had caused the crash. And with it, faded inked photos of the Chancellor and her daughter. Sure it had been years, but it was very much her that was sitting in the driver’s seat.

He was being chaperoned by the damn ex-Chancellor’s daughter. 

A young woman who had come from the very world he was fighting against, that had systematically oppressed people like him.

When she opened her mouth to say something, his hand immediately flew up to stop her. She stopped, taking in his tense posture and clenched jaw, and nodded. No words were needed.

This was going to be a long trip.

* * *

Clarke decided that it was better that Bellamy knew who she really was now. 

It was awkward as fuck in the car sure, but was out in the open. Now she wouldn’t have to go to lengths to mask it, figuring out which cover up story to use. She knew he was going to judge her but that was fine. It wasn’t like she did this for anyone’s approval. It had been two days and while there was a tension in the air that was unsettling, it was still better that way. It also meant there wouldn’t be any pretend attachments, misguided thoughts about the other person’s intentions. Not with the truth laid bare.

This was a mission and it was better this way. 

It had been two days of near perfect silence, save for Clarke’s ham radio that occasionally buzzes in with news. 

She didn’t miss though that in between his judgemental stares, Bellamy got distracted by the scenery around them. Not that she could blame him. The damages done to the earth were hard to process, to acknowledge how quickly it was ravaged in the name of greed. Shallow Valley, the land they were currently driving through, had once been a lush valley. Now, trees were nearly obliterated and she knows that whenever they stop, the Rover will be coated in the rust-colored dirt that has swallowed the rolling green hills. 

It was never easy to look at, but through the eyes of Bellamy (who she was pretty sure hadn’t left the city in years), it hurt even more than normal.

They were about three and a half days into the road trip when they needed to pick up more food. It wasn’t as ideal as Clarke would prefer, but they were decent ways out and they should be fine as long as they’re cautious. Rural areas felt like a wild card to her – on some trips the people in these areas have helped, in others they’d been the first to try and rat her and whoever she was driving out. It was always a coin toss.

The ding of the gas station echoed in the quiet store. After a brief argument, she’d reluctantly agreed to let Bellamy come in with her. As they grabbed a handful of items for the road, Clarke reminding Bellamy that they had plenty of cash so they didn’t have to worry about their banks flagging any purchases made with a card. Anything to remove the traceability of where they were. 

It was when they were looking over what types of chips to get (somehow they could find a way to argue about that even) when Clarke realized they were being watched.

Starting as a prickle on the back of her neck, she waited until she was positive she and Bellamy were the subject matters before turning around quickly.

Two young adults, a guy and a girl, were leaning up against the hot bar counter while intently watching them. Clarke’s gut instinct told her these weren’t Prime supporters, judging by the roughness of their clothes and the spray paint stains on their fingers. The guy, tall and angular in all the odd ways, had the sides of his hair closely shaved with just the top part flopping down. The girl next to him had face tattoo tracing down her cheek, spiraling at her jawline. Though as Clarke did a quick examination of the two looking for obvious weapons, she noticed the girl’s hand. Deformed, a commonality amongst the lower working class.

“Can we help you?” 

Bellamy’s voice interjected the tense quietness, meaning he had noticed them as well. 

The guy shrugged.

“Just checking out some fellow travelers. Are you two going into Polis?” He asked nonchalantly. 

“Leaving it,” Clarke replied tersely. She did not like where this was going.

The girl nodded as she stepped up next to the guy, slipping her hand into his. “Probably for the better. We’ve been hearing the uprisings are going to get bigger, that’s why we’re going in. Had enough scavenging out here, figured we might try our luck in there. I’m Emori by the way, this is John.” 

“Murphy to you two,” he quickly corrected. 

The four of them fell back into silence as they all analyzed each other skeptically. This was one of the worst parts of everything going on right now. The intense need to measure up against anyone you met, testing if they were a friend or foe. 

Clarke was beginning to think they were in a standstill when their new acquaintances made the first move. 

“It’s from being exposed to radiation while my mom was pregnant,” Emori said, answering the unspoken question about her deformed hand. “She worked at a production plant and it turned out the chemicals she was working with were poisonous. Thank Prime she got out, but –” she waved her hand towards them “– a little late for me.”

At Emori’s words, Clarke stilled. She prayed none of them looked towards her, but she knew it was a fruitless wish as Murphy’s stare went from going between the two of them to settling onto her. 

“But I suppose you’d know all about that, Miss Chancellor’s daughter?” The mocking tone in his voice made a shiver snake its way up her back. He knew who she was.

Bellamy’s brow furrowed as he looked from Murphy over to Clarke. 

All she could do was clench her jaw tightly. 

“No answer?” Murphy took a half step closer to her but Bellamy beat him to it, putting himself between the two of them. The defensive move caught Clarke by surprise but she didn’t show it, too focused on keeping her face as neutral as possible. Once it looked like Murphy was going to stay put, Bellamy twisted his head towards her.

“Clarke, what are they talking about?”

His voice was low but urgent. He clearly didn’t know, but the desperation in his voice terrified her. Overwhelmed by the fear of disappointing him, a perfect stranger, mixed with the urge to burst into tears left her with only the option to shake her head.

“Emori, I’m sorry,” she turned to address the other girl. “If there was a way for me to change everything I would. I promise, I’m on your side in all of this.” 

And then she stormed over to the cashier, yanking out some cash and quickly purchasing the snacks before hurrying out of the gas station.

Bellamy found her barely even five minutes later, leaning up against the side of the Rover. She was blankly watching the last bit of the gas fill up. A silly expense, it wasn’t like she had used up much yeet. But watching the numbers slowly tick up had pulled her away from teetering on the edge of a panic attack. Definitely the last thing she needed anyone to see. 

Clarke felt weak, _The Princess_ wasn’t supposed to. 

Bellamy didn’t say anything until they got into the car, waiting with her as the number finally came to a stop and the pump clicked off. He waited until after they’d each had a protein bar, each silently chewing it and washing it down with the filtered water that Clarke kept in the backseat. 

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

Those weren’t the words Clarke had been expecting to hear. 

She stole a glance over at him.

He was looking at her, his eyes concerned but reserved. She could tell that he wanted to know but was trying to respect her boundaries. She appreciated it.

But she also found that she really did want to talk to him about it. 

Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead. “It didn’t start while my mom was Chancellor – the poisoned water. It had been going on for decades, just no one knew about it. Those companies aren’t regulated but it was under my mom that it was finally challenged.” 

Her eyes never moved off of the road in front of them, not daring to look over at Bellamy. She didn’t need to see the betrayal in his eyes.

“One night my dad, who was an engineer, found the results of the tests my mom had agreed to have conducted. It had been an outside agency that ran the tests, some place called A.L.I.E. Anyway, they ran the numbers and sent back the results and the recommendation that the water levels were fine. My dad didn’t think it looked right. He and my mom argued about it for days. He wanted her to come clean about what the government had been allowing; she refused to since it wasn’t her fault and to not cause a panic.” 

Tears welled up in Clarke’s eyes as flashes of those nights came back. Listening to her parents, two people who had always loved each other, shouting at each other. The way her heart had broken in half.

“Then one night he said he was going to run his own tests and leak them. I stopped my mom from going after him since I thought he was right. But he was so angry, he was driving recklessly to the lab and ––”

“Clarke ––”

“–– and he never saw the sign about the ice on the bridge. We got the call only a couple hours later. And somehow the worst part of it was that the report and all of his notes were lost in the river. All of his work drowned with him,” Clarke finished, her voice hollow. 

A year later her mom would come clean to the committee and her board members before reaching out to families that had been affected. People like Emori. But the damage had already been done and the hole already formed in their family. 

“And that’s why you transport people.”

She startled, almost having forgotten he was beside her. Finally cocking her head over, she peeked at his expression. He was frowning but it felt more contemplative than angry.

“I – I should have done more. But I can’t change any of that. My mom isn’t Chancellor anymore, she stepped down when her term was over. Even though she told everyone it was to spend more time with me, I knew it was about all of this. So now I drive people who can’t get away on their own, I might as well use this privilege for something.”

Bellamy shook his head. “You couldn’t have done anything, for Prime’s sake you were in high school Clarke. That’s not a burden for you.”

“None of this should be, but here we are.”

“We do what we have to do to survive,” was all he responded with. 

While it wasn’t any type of rousing speech, one she knew he was capable of, it still made her smile slightly.

XXXXX

Two days later and Clarke and Bellamy finally admitted to each other that they should probably stop for sleep. They’d alternated some in the car, pulling as long of shifts as possible but it would be better if they could sleep in a real bed.

Clarke had been nervous about stopping but Bellamy insisted that it would be fine and that any place out here would probably be removed enough for him to not be recognizable. 

Emerging from the dark, a red flickering sign with VACANCY lit up guided them to a tiny motel. The front office was merely a small box as Clarke pulled up in front of it. After instructing Bellamy to say in the Rover and look like he was sleeping, she walked into the office to get them a room. There didn’t seem to be a question about why she was coming in so late, the person at the front desk barely acknowledging her half-story as they fished out a key for her and accepted her cash. 

Slowly driving the car in a crawl then, the two of the circled the one-story motel until they got to the back and their room. 

And then opened the room to find one bed.

It was enough to make Clarke almost let out an audible groan. Of course this was happening. Why wouldn’t it?

“Don’t even think about offering to sleep on the floor,” she snapped at Bellamy as they gingerly placed their bags inside. “I honestly can’t even imagine what could have happened on that carpet and it doesn’t look like it’s been clean for ages.

Which was how Clarke found herself crammed into a tiny double-size bed next to Bellamy Blake. The new face of the resistance, the motivational speaker who pulled people out of the darkness of reality to face the Primes head on. It would have been awe-inspiring except she felt like this road trip had revealed a part of him that wasn’t seen.

The way he had immediately got between her and Murphy had echoed of the man she saw on social media, but his soft resilience in the car after her story had felt different. Since that moment, they’d shared the occasional story and she’d found her own barriers coming down around him. A dangerous concept, but it was happening all the same. 

That made watching him brush his teeth feel oddly personal, the sight of him in pajamas a secretive look into the man without the armor. 

It made her want to open up to him more and get to know him, before all of this was over and this road trip ended and they returned to the fight.

“What did you want to be as a kid?”

Though she whispered it, in the quiet of the room it felt louder than she meant. Bellamy seemed startled but hummed as he thought to himself. He didn’t seem unnerved by her attempting a normal conversation for the first time.

“I used to want to study history. Anything ancient – the older the better. Nothing to do with war. I thought that maybe if I kept trying hard enough at football and with my classes, I could get into a good college.” 

“So you’re a nerd?”

The teasing came so naturally that Clarke caught herself off guard. It seemed to have surprised Bellamy as well, though the low laughter that followed let her know that it was okay. 

“I guess so.” His tone became wistful. “Even without Russell and the Primes I don’t know if I would have made it. But it was a nice dream.” A pause. “What did you want to do?”

“I used to think either a nurse or an artist, but after all of this I know it would have been an artist. To have the freedom to create and to inspire, give people joy.” The answer was immediate. “I could live wherever the hell I want and just make art.”

“And where would you go?” Bellamy’s voice was soft and she could feel his breath tickling against the back of her neck. 

It was an easy answer.

“Montana. My family has a ranch up there, called Eden,” she replied quietly. “We spent every summer there. Riding horses, hiking, spending time with just each other. There, we weren’t anyone special.”

She took a steadying breath before continuing. “The last time I was there was a couple years ago. My mom is still there, has been for a while. We managed to hide her addiction from the media at first, but it got harder during recovery. So I finally took her out there. She’s there with her live-in nurse, Jackson. And… my foster sister, Madi.”

Her throat closed around Madi’s name and she couldn’t bring herself to keep going. Even though Madi hadn’t been in her life for long before Russell’s win, it was impossible to imagine life without her. She even sometimes had felt like Clarke’s own daughter as Abby had navigated politics and then battled addiction.

A silence fell between them. 

The corners of Clarke’s eyes stung with tears as she tried to keep them at bay. Her mind latched onto the heat radiating off of Bellamy, doing its best to stay grounded in the moment and not lose herself to emotions. Letting him anchor her to the small room they were in now and not in the distant memories of chasing Madi around the mountains.

“We hide away the people we love to try and save them,” Bellamy responded. His voice was so low she almost missed it. 

Cautiously, Clarke rolled onto her other side to face him.

He was closer than she had expected but it somehow didn’t feel like an intrusion. 

“My sister Octavia, she was… a surprise. We never let her feel like that, we just weren’t ready. I spent my whole life feeling like I needed to make up for it, hiding her away from the bad and evil of the world. But you can’t hide a broken system. Not forever.”

Clarke watched as Bellamy closed his eyes. When he opened them again, she could see the pain even in the darkness of the room.

“I tried to shield her from the protests. From the violence. With O’s personality though, it was too hard. She had to be in it,” he continued. 

“Sounds like we should never let them meet, they’d be instant partners in crime,” Clarke joked weakly. 

Bellamy’s low chuckle brought a more genuine smile to her face, even as a yawn fought to come to the surface. 

“No kidding. I wouldn’t be able to handle the stress.” He eyed her curiously. “So if you can’t go back to Eden yet, what’s next?”

“You’re probably one of my last trips for the year. I’m thinking of heading North, I have a friend, Luna, who lives out on a boat. She organizes oil drilling protests and she’s offered me a spot with the next group going out.” 

Clarke stretched out a bit, her toes ghosting against the edge of Bellamy’s leg. Reflex made her want to intertwine her leg with his. Instead she pulled it back into her curled up position. 

“I don’t know if I’m much of a boat person, but I’ve been driving people for a couple years now. Just feels like I need to contribute something different for a little bit. Plus I suppose after that run in with Cage, I should be cautious going back and forth into Polis like I have been. I’m sure he’ll have them track my car.”

Bellamy gave her a small nod in understanding. The police force’s surveillance had at least tripled since the election, eyes and ears tracking people’s movements more than ever before. She’d gotten away with it for a while now with her family name, but she knew that cover had an expiration date. She couldn’t put herself or anyone she transported at risk. 

“Once I find Octavia, I probably need to head back to Polis. Keep working against Russell in the heart. It’s dangerous, I know I worry Kane a lot, but I feel like I need to be there.”

Clarke nodded, recognizing similar emotions within her. The desperate need to be the one to take on the world and save it – not because they wanted to be heroes, but because it was the right thing to do. 

They’d been together for almost a week now and Clarke didn’t like the pang she felt in her gut at the idea of them separating. It was a silly emotion, so she let the conversation naturally drift away as they both fell asleep. She knew it was dangerous to become closer to Bellamy; she’d never bonded with someone she was transporting. 

She just couldn’t help herself.

* * *

Since leaving the motel, Bellamy hasn’t been able to wrap his head around what exactly had changed between him and Clarke. 

It’s been three days since that night. The night where he and Clarke both opened up to each other and revealed sides that they had pushed down for years in order to deal with the world around them. There hadn’t been any other nights in roadside motels, though a part of him missed waking up to the warmth of her body just inches away from his. They still shared stories though, their barriers gone. 

Even today, as they wound through hills on a bumpy road, they easily talked with each other. He’d just finished telling a story about Octavia’s favorite game as a kid, one called Lily Pads, when Clarke eased the car over to a lookout on the side of the road. 

“All of your stories focus on Octavia the more nervous you are,” she explained at his curious expression. “I’ll try my contact again,” she offered with an encouraging half-smile. “Stretch your legs for a moment.” 

He appreciated that she understood his anxiety. So far on this trip they hadn’t had any luck reaching her contact and the closer they got to Sanctum, the more nervous he got. They’d been lucky with not running into anyone else yet, but without confirmation of his sister’s safety and a reassurance of theirs once they got there, it was nerve-wracking.

The lookout that they had pulled into didn’t have much use anymore with the barren wasteland in front of them. But it was still nice to shake out the tightness in his legs and to feel some fresh air on his face. When he’d had his fill of dead nature, he turned back to look at Clarke.

He watched as she twisted a strand of hair around her finger while she talked to someone on the phone. The lengths she had gone to in pushing her contact for information had at first surprised him, but now it filled him with a warmth that overtook him. His perception of Clarke had shifted so much since the start of this that he couldn’t remember what it had been like to resent her those early days. 

He was watching the sun glint off of her hair when he felt the piercing pain on the side of his waist. 

“There you are, you rebel scum,” gloated a voice as Bellamy stumbled around. 

Three cops stood behind him, two just further back while one with a knife stood just in front of him now. And that was when it registered with Bellamy that he had just been stabbed. 

Instinct kicked in though and he jumped into combat mode. 

If this first cop had thought that Bellamy being caught unawares would give him a huge advantage, he had drastically miscalculated it. The two immediately began to spar, Bellamy using his heavy boot to swing up and kick the knife out of the cop’s hand. The man growled, dirt now splattered across his uniform as he lunged to tackle Bellamy.

He couldn’t pause to think about the stinging pain in his side, jumping back and then pushing forward again to throw a punch at him. 

From behind him he heard a shout and he realized that the two other cops had nearly finished advancing on them and Clarke must have spotted what was happening. 

It was a dance between him and two of the officers as the third went after Clarke. Lean back to dodge a flying fist, catch a kick with his hands to then throw the leg to the side and throw the cop off balance. Barely slipping past a thrusting knife. He couldn’t let himself focus on Clarke though he got a glimpse of her as he struggled to throw one of the guys off of his back. 

He didn’t know how they’d eventually found them, though his gut instinct told him that the motel had been their downfall. 

Where they could lay the blame wasn’t something to focus on now though. There wasn’t time to be distracted. With a grunt of anger, Bellamy used his entire body weight to hoist the man that was on his back and to throw him onto the ground. It was a harder hit than he expected and with a woozy groan, the man stilled.

That left the original cop, the one who had stabbed him. 

They returned to their grappling as Bellamy fought to get ahold of the knife that was flying around him. Those things were truly his least favorite weapon; he’d grown comfortable with a gun while training in Polis. But this would have to do.

He was able to knock the knife out of the cop’s hand and they scrambled on the ground for it. Without having to worry about being stabbed at the moment, Bellamy had an even easier job getting the upper hand. 

Beside them, Clarke had given the third cop a swift kick to the groin before scrambling for the back of the Rover. Just as he was wondering what she was doing, he heard a gunshot and looked up just as Clarke’s head popped out of the trunk while brandishing a gun in front of her. As the cop dropped to the ground, Bellamy took the one he was fighting by surprise and grabbed the knife from the ground before plunging it into his neck. 

The lookout once again returned to an empty silence as Clarke and Bellamy fought to catch their breath. But then with a quick glance at each other, they rushed back into the car. There wasn’t any time to waste. While the area was isolated, if the cops had informed anyone else about their whereabouts they were in danger of being caught. And even if no one else knew it was them, they certainly couldn’t hang around with the bodies of three cops on the ground. 

Bellamy was in the process of trying to buckle his seatbelt when he realized Clarke hadn’t started the car at all, and was instead staring at his abdomen in complete horror.

“You’re bleeding, what the fuck Bellamy?!” Clarke’s desperation burst out of her. She wasn’t even attempting to move the car and he tried to hold it together.

“Clarke! It’s just a cut, we have to go.”

“You’re hurt, I can’t risk it getting worse!”

Bellamy let out a groan, attempting to shift in his seat to look her squarely on. Somewhere along the road he may have begun to what he now realized was romantic feelings for Clarke, but Prime almighty she was stubborn as hell and _now was not the time_. 

“Clarke, I can apply my own pressure to it while you drive. You don’t have to go far, but we have no idea if they were alone. Please, drive. You won’t be able to fight if you’re worried about me.”

Her watery gaze seemed to clear a bit at that, nodding somberly as she finally turned to start up the car. In truth, he was in more pain than he wanted to admit. But the last thing he wanted was Clarke to get hurt because she was worried about him. He had to do everything he could to get her to keep driving and to get them the hell out of that spot.

Eventually, they found a secluded spot away from the main road. As soon as they stopped, Clarke plunged into the back seat, grabbing a med kit and then scrambling back up front to him. She was muttering the whole time, too low for him to catch it all. It wasn’t until he helped lift up the hem of his shirt so she could get to the cut on his abdomen, pressing the wet cloth to it, that he could discern the self-loathing words that she was directing to herself.

He immediately placed his hand on top of hers, engulfing it and pausing her motions.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

When she looked up at him, tears tracked down her cheeks and her lip was quivering. He could see the fight to hold it together in her eyes. 

“I shouldn’t have walked away from you. I shouldn’t have left you. If I’d been there from the start, you would have been fine.” 

“Stop that. You’re already risking your life by transporting rebels, it’s not also your job to be my savior. And they could have gotten to you first and I wouldn’t have been there either. You could be anywhere else in this world, you could be at Eden right now with your family but you’re not. Don’t ever blame yourself for not doing enough.”

The words came out in a rush but he had to do anything to comfort her. It was an intense determination, overwhelmed with the need to make sure that she understood how important she was. To everything going on and to him. He was the one that was injured, but he could see all of the cracks in her beginning to surface. 

She nodded unconvincingly, as she returned to cleaning the wound. He let his hand move with hers, refusing to let it go as she slowly traced the wound in circles. He clenched his body so as not to twitch at the sensation, instead focusing entirely on her. 

“You’re lucky it wasn’t a bullet,” her voice was soft.

“Well, not all cops want to get it over with quickly.” 

Those words seemed to be a fresh reminder of what could have just happened and Clarke let out a shuddering breath.

“You’re the first…” she struggled with her words until settling on some. “I can’t lose you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, knowing he’d find a way to keep it. He wanted to say more but instead he grimaced as she slowly pulled the cloth away to then apply a bandage. As she leaned in to make sure the wound was properly dressed, Bellamy fought back the urge to nuzzle his nose into her hair. 

Once he was fully bandaged up, only a dull ache on his side to remind him of it, Clarke gently pulled back from where she had been nearly cradled into his chest to take care of his wound. 

She didn’t go very far though, still in his immediate proximity on the seat. 

Bellamy couldn’t look away from the mole above her lip. For such a small detail on her face, he wasn’t sure why it was in such focus for him now. But it was, the way it hovered just above, drawing his eyes towards her lips. They parted slightly and he could almost see her breath hitch as he continued to stare. 

He was consumed by the need to be selfish for the first time in years.

What was one kiss?

One kiss with a girl who risked her life every day to help people like him, using her systematic advantages instead of hiding them? 

He could feel her breath against his lips when the harsh ringing of her burner phone broke through the moment. 

Clarke grimaced, her eyes briefly squeezing shut as if she was waking up before opening her eyes again. He could drown in the deep blues of her eyes. But he could also see in them that the moment was gone.

She pulled away, though he could see the disappointment written clearly on her face as she answered the phone. 

It was as if he had forgotten for a moment where they were and what they were doing.

Rubbing at his face in frustration, Bellamy waited as Clarke went through a series of hums and noises of confirmation as she listened to whoever was on the phone. When she hung up though, her face had transformed into a small smile. There was a trace of melancholy to it though and he knew her mind was also still on that almost kiss. A kiss he still wanted to chase after, catching her lips with his.

But instead he looked at her expectantly and she said the words he had hoped to hear once they started their trip, though the stolen moment made that feel like a distant goal.

“That was my contact. Octavia is safe at Sanctum and she told her that we’re coming, they’re expecting us.”

* * *

It was probably for the best that they hadn’t kissed. 

Clarke couldn’t stop replaying that moment in her mind for the next two days as they drove. With a full tank and the specific knowledge of Octavia’s whereabouts, there wasn’t much reason to take it slow. Landscapes changed as they crossed the country, the rolling hills turning into barren oil fields. 

Bellamy slept through most of it, finally listening to her advice to rest after the fight. 

He deserved it too, her heart aching as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. She couldn’t distract him now just before he reunited with his sister. And they each had dreams – goals that they needed to focus on in this war for society. After his injury too, with the amount of fear and panic that had coursed through her, Clarke wasn’t sure it was a good idea for her to be around him. She already cared about him too much.

They arrived at a large, modern mansion. Carefully following the instructions that had been given to her, Clarke flashed her car’s headlights in morse code the password to signify that they were there. A long enough pause to make her internally panic, and then the opening of a garage door that lead them into a steep cement tunnel. Eventually then emptying out into an underground hangar bay filled with an assortment of vehicles, giant crates, and a ton of people.

Parking the car, Bellamy and Clarke carefully got out of the car. Save for a few odd looks, most everyone around them ignored them. Clarke’s contact, a woman who simply went by the name Pramheda, had told her that they would be expected. Which meant that before they could even ask someone where to go, their mission found them. 

“Bell!” 

A voice shouted out from behind them and the two of them turned, Clarke just barely moving out of the way as a figure threw themselves at Bellamy. 

Clarke wasn’t sure what she had expected Octavia to be like Bellamy hadn’t shown her any photos. Just stories from that night at the hotel to the times during the night while they drove through the dark and they swapped childhood stories. The girl in front of her, on the edge of her twenties, was somehow both what Clarke was expecting but also not.

Her features were sharper than Bellamy’s. It was as if her body was made to fight, lean and all hard angles. They shared cheekbones though, their dark eyes mirroring each other though her hair hung straight down against her paler skin compared to Bellamy’s curls and warm, deeper olive toned skin. She carried a different energy with her too, a frantic and almost intimidating one. The chaotic child Bellamy had described certainly had grown into herself. 

The hug was a tight one, but when they pulled apart there was a clear tension between the two. 

It seemed that they were interested in saving that conversation for a later time though, quickly moving through pleasantries as Octavia led them deeper into Sanctum.

“Oh, this is Hope!” Octavia gestured towards a young woman. Her hair was twisted up in various buns and braids, tattoos lining her forehead and jawline. They all shook hands and Clarke carefully watched Bellamy’s expression as they slowly got to meet Octavia’s new family, including another man named Gabriel who apparently had been the one to initially reach out to her to come out to Sanctum. For someone who had only been here for about a week or so, she’d certainly made friends quickly. 

The only one who they didn’t meet was Cadogan, Octavia waving it off with a shrug and saying she didn’t know where he was. 

There was a general feeling of frenzy that reverberated through the bunker. Sanctum was easily twice the size of Polis from what Bellamy had described to her. There were more weapons, more people. With the brief moments Clarke had spent with Octavia, she understood what had brought the young woman out here. They were obviously planning something big here.

“So, Clarke drove you here?” Octavia asked after their tour of the bunker. They were in the cafeteria eating lunch.

“I help transport people as needed out of Polis,” Clarke supplied. “I have previous family connections that help make it easier for me to not raise any suspicion.”

“Impressive,” was Octavia’s only remark, but Clarke had a feeling it was genuine. This wasn’t a family that lied about how they felt. And she felt the same impressed way towards the two Blakes as well. 

Octavia then turned her focus onto her older brother. “Well Bellamy, are you here to stay? We could use someone like you.” 

Bellamy was silent, picking at the food on his tray. 

“Come on. It’s not like we’ll never go back to Polis. We’re almost big enough according to Cadogan. We might be filling those streets by fall this year,” she continued to push in his silence. “Kane is a great guy but he doesn’t nearly have the resources. And everyone saw you punch that fascist Prime, trust me you’ll want more backup. No offense to Miller.” Her eyes landed on Clarke. “I’m sure Clarke could stay too if she wanted.”

She hadn’t been expecting to be used as a reason to get Bellamy to stay and Clarke found herself clearing her throat and asking where the nearest bathroom was.

As she got up to leave, she heard Bellamy crossly asking Octavia, “Nevermind about where I end up right now, can you please just explain to me why you just took off without a word?”

Yep. She was definitely glad she had gotten up.

Octavia’s words rang through her mind as she explored more of Sanctum. Would Bellamy really stay here if she did? She wasn’t sure how Octavia had jumped to that conclusion so quickly, but the memory of their almost kiss was enough to make her blush so maybe it was more obvious than she had expected.

Clarke tried to picture what it would be like to be here. To stay here and completely throw herself into the fight. She would never disparage anyone from resorting to violence to overcome the adversity they were facing – fuck, she _had_ killed two cops earlier this week. But there was something about this place that was too much. She’d had too much violence in her life already, she had to find other ways to protest.

For a moment though, she let herself imagine it. Living here with Bellamy and training with Octavia. Guaranteed to see him every day while they found ways to deal more blows to the government. 

But then what would happen later this year? It seemed like Cadogan wanted to storm Polis, take it back. Would she be prepared to risk losing Bellamy in that fight? There were no guarantees in this world and she knew how easily she grew attached to people. Even already it was painful to imagine Bellamy going back to Polis or even staying here. So what would she do when they’d had even more time to grow closer? 

So she knew she couldn’t stay. 

With a heavy heart and an internal prayer that maybe one day they could meet again, she turned on her heel. With just a few questions, she was directed to where the Rover had been kept and she approached it with a heavy heart. It would be a quiet ride back East without Bellamy’s stories and presence to keep her company.

She had barely stuck the keys into the door when she was stopped by a shout.

“Clarke! Wait up!”

At the sound of Bellamy’s voice, Clarke’s heart caught in her throat and she whipped around to see him running towards her. When he stopped, his chest was heaving and he dragged his hands through his even wilder looking curls. 

She didn’t dare speak.

“You know, I’ve never seen the ocean.”

She blinked slowly at his words, the meaning settling in. When she continued to not say anything, his expression grew more anxious.

“What I mean to say is, Kane was right about the danger in Polis for me right now. And being here, I’ve learned that I have to learn to let Octavia go. She’s capable of making her own choices – she isn’t my responsibility anymore.”

He drew in a deep breath and took a step closer to her, crowding into her space in only the way he could and the only person she’d let that close to her.

“If there’s room on your friend’s boat, I’d like to join that faction of protests, if she’ll have me.” He paused, his eyes searching her face. “If you’ll have me. Because, Clarke, there are a lot of fights out there right now that need people. But I need to be fighting by your side so we can do this together.”

It was that final word that did it for Clarke. 

She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, her hand reaching to fist into the coarse material of Bellamy’s shirt. In sync, his arms slipped around her waist and pulled her the rest of the way up to meet him in a kiss. 

After years of unrest and paranoia, being in Bellamy’s arms was the first time Clarke felt like she was truly home. His mouth moved against hers, his fingers digging into her sides as he held her to his chest and she wove her fingers into his hair. 

Feeling his chest expand against hers, their breathing moving as one, filled with her with a feeling that she hadn’t felt in ages. It was a spark, a light that would push her through these dark times and give a purpose to what they were going through.

Because as long as they were breathing, she still had hope.

**Author's Note:**

> In a dream world this becomes a multi-chapter fic that’s much longer and has all of the details and other world-building I did for this story. Maybe one day! Until then, thanks for checking it out and remember to vote! Both for the fics in this challenge and the upcoming primary and general elections.
> 
>  **where else you can find me:** [Tumblr](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/the_river_held) | [my carrd](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.carrd.co/)


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